Hearts Under Siege
by LilyGhost
Summary: In the rush to locate a missing Stephanie, both Ranger and Steph suddenly realize what they really stand to lose. Told from Ranger and Stephanie's POV.


**I'm not sure how well this story follows the lyrics of the song, but "Break In" by Halestorm is the inspiration behind it. Everything familiar is Janet's. The mistakes are mine alone. Warnings for a little language.**

**Stephanie's POV**

I'm not walking away from this one. I knew it in every fiber of my battered body. If Joe found out I was gone, he'd look everywhere for me, but his hands would be tied getting the whereabouts of where I'm currently being held. Or, in the past, he would have looked for me, but since we broke up over a month ago, he may not be in such a hurry to look for me now.

Ranger's hands are always free to threaten, torture, or kill anyone with critical information on me, but that's the problem. I don't think there is anyone who knows where I am. I mean, _I'm _here and I still have no fucking idea where _here _is.

I tried once again to ease the ache along my left side by rolling over onto my right, but only found a bunch more sore spots, and increased the discomfort in my left leg, as a little more blood flowed slowly back into it. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, _I repeated in my head, since speaking isn't really an option right now. I tried to piece together what happened, but I don't remember much.

I got home from the bonds office, fed Rex, and then went down a few floors to Dillon's apartment to get the mail he said he had for me. I was figuring on only being gone for a few minutes, because he isn't an especially chatty guy, so I'd left my bag, phone, and even my jacket, inside my apartment. I did grab my keys and made sure my door was locked, though. Fat lot of good a locked door did me, because I was grabbed in the stairwell coming back from Dillon's.

Of course it couldn't have happened in the hallway leading to my door, where a handful of neighbors would be hauling out more weaponry than what's in the evidence room at the TPD. The retirees on my floor see me living in their building as a cheap - and convenient - alternative to practicing at a gun range. I did have Ranger's panic button on my keychain, but when I sensed that somebody was coming up behind me, I didn't have time to push it before something crashed into my head, causing my world to slip away.

I never saw who attacked me, and I didn't wake up at all on the way to wherever this is, which made me think I have a concussion. My eyes had eventually opened, but weren't able to see anything, and I couldn't move my arms and legs, or get a sense of where I was. My cheek was smushed into cold concrete, and I was shivering uncontrollably, so I had to assume I was taken to a garage, warehouse, or I'm in someone's basement. That narrowed down the possibilities to half of fuckin' Jersey.

Being bound, gagged, blindfolded, and left alone with only yourself for company is bad enough, but it being _me _here made my mind as uncomfortable as my body. My thoughts aren't pleasant ones, and there's no one here that I know of to distract me from them - or to pin them on - so I had nowhere to hide ... which is laughable considering my situation, and the fact that I'm well hidden from everyone except myself.

And I've fucked up royally. Not only with getting myself kidnapped again, but with my personal life. I stayed where I wasn't wanted, then hesitated with the one who wanted me. Ranger and I have been feeling each other out more than up since I ended things with Joe, having breakfast together in his office on the days I worked for him, and sometimes dinner out, but when it came to actually sleeping over, I've held out. I think part of me was a little afraid that we'd have a little fun in the sack, but then he'd disappear to chase down a skip or a terrorist, and I'd never see him again ... by choice or by fate.

Being Ranger's friend and not being told news about him would suck on its own, but being his lover and still shut out would be a bigger blow to me than the one I'd gotten right before I was dumped here and left for dead. I haven't been given food or water, and I had to admit that I'm actually a little grateful for the no water thing, because I have no clue where the bathroom is, if this place even had one, or how I'd use it if it did.

In between dissecting my relationship with Ranger, I was trying to figure out _why _I'd been kidnapped, and who I'd pissed off this time. My skips were all the usual dirtbags ... wife beaters, car stealers, or coke snorters, and I couldn't imagine any of them going through the trouble of kidnapping and storing me. For what? Revenge? Money? Boredom?

As I felt myself drifting away from reality again, I couldn't help but wonder what Ranger's doing right now. Does he know I'm gone? Is he out looking for me? And most importantly ... will he get to me in time if he is?

**Ranger's POV**

**"**Where the fuck is she?" I asked Hal, not raising my voice, but then ... I don't really have to. "You were supposed to be watching over her."

"I was," he said, sweating at both the thought of me angry at him, and Stephanie potentially being in danger again, and us not knowing where she is.

That was about to change. I don't care if I have to get all Rangeman employees together to comb every fucking inch of this state. I'm finding her. I'd been calling her cell, and when she didn't answer the third time I tried to reach her, I was fearing the worst ... that she'd gotten back together with Morelli. But upon arriving here, and finding her apartment empty except for Rex and her things, my gut was telling me she was in trouble again. I'd called the control room and requested immediate backup.

"So tell me how the fuck was she taken while under Rangeman's supervision?" I asked Hal.

"All her trackers said she was still in her apartment," Ram added. "Her car was parked in the lot. There was no reason for us to believe anything was going on. No indication of foul play at all."

Stephanie had thoroughly - and emphatically - vetoed the idea of a more permanent tracking system, so unless she had her bag, jacket, or car with her, we couldn't get a bead on her. I should have seen this coming, and had every single shoe and article of clothing fitted with tracers, too. My respecting her wishes could very well have gotten her killed.

I shut down that nagging little corner of my mind. One of the things I've learned from my years as a team leader, is _never _admit defeat. You fight until you're dead or every enemy around you is dead. That _take no prisoners _attitude has saved my ass multiple times, and it will also save Stephanie. I'll use who - and whatever - is at my disposal to bring her home to me, and then I'll make fucking sure she stays there and is never out of my sight again.

"Tank, I want you, Brown, and Santos with me. We're going to go over her apartment with a fucking magnifying glass until one of us comes up with a place to start searching. Hal, you and Ram keep your eyes on anything involving her apartment. Hector is setting up surveillance cameras in and around her place, plus the halls and lot. If anyone looks even remotely suspicious, I want them picked up and secured until I can speak to them. I also want at least four men scouring the neighborhood looking for leads. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Sir," they all said, snapping to attention.

"Let's go," I said, but paused to address Ram and Hal again. "I want you to do exactly what I told you to. No taking a piss, getting a bite to eat, or allowing yourselves a break of any kind unless you have two sets of eyes to take your place. If something happens to Stephanie due to an oversight or poor communication on your end, whoever's to blame will end up buried on top of the asshole who took her. Now ... _move_."

Stephanie will be found today, alive and unharmed, or there will be fucking hell to pay.

**Stephanie's POV**

After what felt like hours had passed, I channeled my inner Ranger and tried one more time to get to my feet. I knew it was an act of pure desperation, because whatever my wrists and ankles had been secured with, only pulled tighter when I moved, so I really didn't know what the heck I was going to do if I actually made it upright. I just knew I didn't want to die here without trying to save myself.

Clearly, my mental telepathy skills aren't as well-honed as Ranger's. From the second I knew I wasn't alone on the stairs, to finally coming to by myself here, I'd called out to Ranger. Being gagged made that impossible vocally, so I was relying solely on whatever connection we have to let him know that I was in danger, or at the very least ... that I was thinking of him.

I did manage to get to my feet, after a couple painful and pitiful attempts, but I didn't stay there long, as an entirely too familiar feeling washed over me. My head suddenly felt like it was pumped full of something fluffy and insubstantial, my body was acting like I'd just downed two of Chevy's margaritas on an empty stomach, and I crashed to the floor before I was ready to admit that I was about to faint.

I couldn't tell if I was conscious, still unconscious, or dead. With the woozy, dreamlike quality to my thinking, I was leaning heavily towards dead. I remember feeling funny and then ... _nothing_. Either I _had _died or I'd now entered a new stage of hell - complete with delusions - because I swear I heard Ranger's voice. I knew it was impossible, though. He's good, but even _he _couldn't have located me, so I shifted what was left of my mind back to my debate on whether I was dead or just going crazy.

There was a loud blast, sounding a lot like a gunshot, and then I felt hands on me. I'm pretty sure there are no guns in heaven, then again ... maybe I'd been given a ticket south instead of to the pearly gates. But now that the fog in my head was clearing slightly, it was slowly dawning on me that I'm still alive, and I tried weakly to lash out at whoever was touching me. I'm very picky about who gets to put their hands on my body when I'm _awake_, I sure as hell wasn't letting anyone do it while I was semi-conscious and barely able to fight back.

"Easy, Babe," I heard a voice say, as fingers began undoing the knots on all the stuff tied around me. "I've got you."

It took a few seconds before I really believed it was Ranger leaning over me, freeing and saving me once again. I'd held it together up until that moment, but just knowing that I wasn't going to die without seeing him again had tears streaming down my face. I couldn't help but think that he should have left my blindfold on, maybe that would have helped stem the flow.

"Ranger?" I whispered, my voice cracking more from emotion than dehydration and lack of use.

"I'm here," he told me, pulling me gently in his arms.

**Ranger's POV**

I felt as though my insides was being scraped raw every second of Stephanie's disappearance. Rangeman will be undergoing more thorough training, and acquiring more sensitive equipment, because I should have known the exact moment she'd been approached.

What was even more humbling, is it would've taken me longer to discover her location if there hadn't been a potential witness. I knew she had gone to Dillon's - seeing the note he'd left her - which we found on her kitchen counter, but she all but vanished once leaving him.

After wasting an eternity talking to every tenant in Stephanie's building, and everyone in the surrounding area, I'd gotten a call from Hal saying he had the name of a woman who walks her dog at the same time everyday after work. And her usual route passes right by Stephanie's apartment building.

That particular evening, this woman's dog had chased the cat belonging Mrs. Delgado _into _the lot. And the woman - Genevieve Parson - remembered Stephanie because she'd been thoroughly disgusted at seeing a young woman so drunk, she couldn't even make it out of the building without assistance.

"The woman you saw last night wasn't drunk," I told Mrs. Parson, when I showed up at her door. "She was being abducted."

One of her hands went to her mouth, the other to her stomach, as the horror of what she'd witnessed sank in.

"Oh my God," she whispered. "I should have done something."

"You can do something now. I need to know what car she was put in, and what the person looked like who was driving it."

Once she'd taken a couple deep breaths, I got what I needed from her. I now had a car color, model, and half a license plate number, as well as a very generic description of the man who kidnapped Steph. I was already on my cell, requesting information before the woman had been dismissed. Everything ceased to exist except Stephanie, and I'd just gotten a lot closer to finding her.

"Car was stolen ..." Gene said, through the line.

"Fuck."

"But it was stolen from the uncle of someone with a connection to us."

"Who?" I bit out.

"Clancy."

"Arthur Clancy?"

"Yeah. You and Stephanie put his old lady away, didn't you?" He asked.

"Yes. That was a memorable capture. The woman tried to punch Stephanie, and she took that bitch down."

I remembered a little more about that couple. Their meth lab was shut down when she'd gotten arrested, and subsequently killed by another inmate not long after she was put back in prison. It made sense now. Clancy wanted to take _my _woman away from me like he believed we took his. He's about to lose a lot more than that.

"I want a list of names and addresses associated with each of them; family, friends, dealers, clients, going back as far as their first fucking grade teachers. And I wanted it an hour ago."

"I'm typing as we speak."

Even with all the available men - plus the contract workers I use for emergencies - in on the search - checking homes, businesses, and abandoned buildings - used up precious time I was afraid Stephanie didn't have. Or more accurately, _I _don't have. If we didn't find her soon, I'm going to lose it.

I've faced this feeling only one other time in my life, and that's when Scrog took Julie. I was willing to die for my daughter, but not only would I die for Stephanie, I'd go out of my fucking mind if she were no longer here. It took considerable effort to push past that thought, but I managed it ... _barely_. I _would _locate her, and then take immense pleasure in killing the motherfucker who dared to touch her.

We finally caught a break with an abandoned factory outside Trenton, linked to Clancy's girlfriend's childhood friend's father. If Stephanie wasn't the one at stake here, I might have laughed at how "Burg-like" that connection sounded.

The father died years ago, the family left town soon afterwards, but still remained owners of the dilapidated building. It was almost entirely isolated, being surrounded on three sides by dense woods, in a business district that now resembles a ghost town. After seeing an aerial view, it's clear that you'd only find it if you already knew it was there, since the overgrowth had nearly taken the factory back years ago.

It was a good place to hide someone you don't want found, and that's all I needed to know. I didn't want any fuckups, so the police hadn't been contacted. I have a much better shot at rescuing Steph and making sure she wasn't bothered again. I got my ass back in the truck, and broke speed records getting to the place. Not surprising, Clancy was waiting there for me, which was a suicidal move on his part, because I was looking forward to watching him die. Him being there was for a similar reason ... to watch Stephanie die.

_Not on my watch, Babe, _I silently promised her.

When we'd arrived and Tank and I met outside the door, I fought the urge to burst through the doors with bullets flying, but I didn't dare fuck this up. I didn't know which floor she's on, and there were four more above this one. And I won't know where exactly she is until I get inside. I couldn't give more of a fuck about my own safety if hers is on the line, but I refuse to risk _her_.

My instincts had already alerted me to the fact that we weren't the only ones here. I held my hand up to Tank, signaling to proceed with caution. Clancy isn't smart, and is too hotheaded to keep his mouth shut for very long, which at that moment I was grateful for. I cleared the door with Tank at my back, and Clancy's voice suddenly echoed throughout the ground floor.

"Looking for something?" He asked, a chilling laugh bouncing off the walls.

"As a matter of fact I am," I replied.

The area was full of shadows, but while I hadn't yet spotted Clancy, I could make out specific shapes ... one being Stephanie's body lying in a heap on the floor. Had I been asked, I would've said my body shut down, but my brain was working on autopilot. I need to get to her and then take Clancy out. Those were my two objectives, and I would accomplish them in that order. I wouldn't allow myself to think of what would happen to me - and everyone around me - if I found her not breathing when I did reach her.

A few sharp gestures with my hand had Tank covering me as I moved towards her. My men were surrounding the building, and I knew Bobby and Hal - followed by Vince and Lester - would be in seconds behind us. Clancy's voice had come from the right side of the room, and Stephanie was to the left.

As I headed away from the soon-to-be dead man, I heard the sound of a window sliding up from behind a bank of lockers which had been blocking the last of the day's sunlight. The fucker was going to bolt. My lips twisted in a humorless smile. He wasn't going to be moving _now_, or _again _after tonight.

I watched him jump to clutch the edge of the small windowsill seven feet off the floor, and that's what I've been needing for the last twenty-two hours ... a target for my anger. I aimed and squeezed the trigger. It wasn't a kill shot, not yet. I'd gone for his knee so he couldn't move far or fast, even if he could get past Tank, which no one except me could. I'll deal with him once I'm certain Stephanie is okay.

"I'll handle him later. Just keep an eye on the asshole, and tell the men to move in. Have them sweep the building and make sure we aren't going to be ambushed or blown up."

"The thermal only detected two bodies on this floor, Stephanie's and this fucker's," Tank told me. "We're alone, in this section anyway. Vince, Lester, Hal, and Bobby are taking the upper floors once we clear them. Hector has already started searching the exterior, looking for signs of explosives. Bones and Zero are close if we need extra manpower."

I was already walking away as Tank finished, heading to the woman who turned my life upside down, not just today, but ten minutes after she walked into a certain diner one day. I held my breath as I approached her. Though light was getting scarce, I could tell she was extremely pale, and she wasn't moving.

I dropped to my knees and bent my head close to her. "I'll always find you," I told her, checking for a pulse. "And when you come to, you'll see that I intend to keep you."

She was cold, but I was relieved to note that her body temperature was largely due to the unheated building. I let out a pent-up breath. If she died, I'd be right beside her. It was weak to admit - even to myself - but it's the truth. I can do without money, success, and a never-ending supply of expensive vehicles, but I couldn't live without this curly-haired miracle worker.

Stephanie made me feel like a _man _... not the robot I'd been trained to become. I could be both in her presence, and she found a way of respecting and loving each of them individually. She hasn't said she loves me yet, but it emanates from her. And it's going to be acknowledged and reciprocated once I get her the fuck out of here.

I took a few seconds to run my fingertips over her beautiful face ... tracing the shape of her cheek, jaw, and the lashes of her closed eyes - thanking God that she's still here with me - before I started working on her bindings.

"How is she?" Tank called out, just as scared as I'd been.

"She's unconscious, but very much alive," I told him, knowing Tank would relay the news, then I tuned him out.

My world had narrowed to just seeing her blue eyes open ... and looking back at me. She regained consciousness in degrees, yet started kicking and grunting before her eyes had even opened. I had to smile. Stephanie would fight until she no longer could, and that's one quality that sealed my fate when it came to loving her. She's more like me than she'd ever realize.

"Easy, Babe," I said, trying to calm her down so she wouldn't hurt herself further. "I've got you."

"Ranger?" She croaked out, her voice sounding painful to use, though I relished the two syllables of my nickname.

"I'm here," I assured her, then gathered her close.

I held her body tightly to mine until her sobs dwindled into occasional sniffles. That happened faster than it should have for a woman who had just been through hell. She'd been kidnapped, left to die, and didn't know I was hunting her. I only wish I could have spared her this. Had she been living in my building, I would have. That oversight - on both our parts - would be corrected as soon as she was up to hearing it.

She and I will do what we've always done when either of us have been targeted, we'll survive and then move on. The difference is, _this _time we'll be moving forward together. She pulled back and I wiped her face with the hem of my t-shirt, then ran my hands over her, carefully stretching and bending her limbs since she had lost use of them for almost an entire day.

"I'm sorry," she told me.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. If anyone should be apologizing, it's me. I should have found you sooner if not prevented this entire ordeal before it happened."

"It's a miracle that you _did _find me. I'm not about to nitpick the _whys _or _hows_. Was that a gunshot I heard?"

"Yes. Clancy was trying to escape ... and I stopped him."

"That explains the groans and swears. For a minute there, I thought it was me making the noise. I've been a little out of it."

As we talked, I was checking Stephanie's body, assessing the damage, and watching her face for signs of pain. She seemed bruised, but surprising unharmed until I cupped the back of her head to bring her close again.

"_Fuck_," she whispered.

I immediately took my hand away and moved behind her, carefully parting her curls and seeing the now dried blood covering a substantial gash. She winced and I saw red. She'll have to go to the ER and get checked out then stitched up. She'll probably hate _that _more than being trapped here.

"I'm getting you out of here," I said gently, standing up and helping her do the same.

"Shit," she said, swaying on her feet until I wrapped my arm around her waist, tucking her into the safety of my body.

"You're okay, Babe. Just take it slow."

The men had gone through the entire building, and were now standing between Stephanie and Clancy, but giving us as much privacy as the situation would allow. They all know Stephanie and I love each other, and were most likely hoping this would be the moment we'd finally put everyone out of their misery and admit it.

"I'm alright ... just a little wobbly. The last thing I ate was a few fries I snagged from Lula."

"I need a bottle of water and a something to put in her stomach," I barked at Hal.

He radioed in the request, and two seconds later, Bones came into the factory with both. I was currently feeling good, I'm wasn't even going to bust their asses for keeping that shit in their vehicles.

"Here you go," I said, twisting the cap off on the water, and opening the PayDay bar for her.

She chugged half the bottle of water, only choking on the first few gulps until I told her to slow down, then she started in on the candy bar. Her nose wrinkled.

"Jeez, even your candy bars are as healthy as they can get," she said in disgust. "Would it kill you guys to keep peanut butter cups or something with caramel for a time like this?"

Bones smiled for the first time in hours. "We'll make a 'Stephanie Survival Kit' for each of the fleet vehicles, how about that?"

She leaned into me a little more, as she gave her body a chance to adjust to being refueled.

"I'd appreciate it," she told him. "How'd you guys find me anyway?"

"I'll explain everything on the way to the hospital," I told her.

The hand with the candy paused on its way to her mouth.

"_Hospital?_"

"Yes. No arguments. You received a nasty blow to the head. It needs to be looked at."

"Why? So they can tell me I have a concussion, and that I have to be monitored? Can't we just go back to Rangeman? You can make sure hourly that I know my name, where I live, and who the president is."

"Afraid not. I should tell you this now so you won't sound confused when asked where you live ..."

"Believe me, my apartment is too ugly to forget, even after the day I've had."

"But you no longer live there. You're going to the hospital ... then straight to Rangeman. If you're lucky, I'll let you leave my building for work, but yesterday was your last day of living in that rathole."

"_Ranger _..."

"This isn't up for debate, Stephanie," I told her, using her full name to get across how serious I am. "Nothing like this can happen to you again. And I'm making it my job to see that it doesn't."

She turned her head carefully to look up at me. "I'm _a job _to you?"

"No. You're _everything _to me. If you didn't want me, I'd agree to give you some space, and let you have an apartment on the fourth floor, but we both know you belong on seven."

"Are you sure?" She asked, her snack and injuries momentarily forgotten. "Adrenaline does strange things to people."

"You know my body is unnaturally good at processing adrenaline. I'm saying this because I want you with me ... and I can't have you stolen away from me again. Not by Morelli _or _a bastard like Clancy."

"_Clancy? _Where have I heard that name before?"

"His girlfriend was our FTA a while back."

She paused. "Oh, I remember. The meth-head with the nasty temper."

"That's her. Come on, we need to get you out of here."

"Was it the recent blunt object to the head, or did you really just ask me to move in with you?" She said, dragging her feet until I answered.

"I didn't ask. Nor will I. You have to be safe, and I need you with me. Simple as that."

She looked so adorable and confused, I had to kiss her before we got the hell out of here.

"I love you," she said softly. "I said that out loud this time, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did, Babe. And you know I love you right back. Let's get a doctor to okay you and then we can go home."

"What about Clancy?"

"Don't worry about him," I told her. "Hal will help you out to my truck. I need to have a word with Tank before I leave."

She polished off the candy bar and water, and looked better already ... less pale, less fragile. Stephanie was never meant to look defenseless, and I'm more pleased than I can say that she won't be ever again after today.

I watched her walk out with Hal - Bobby and Lester closing ranks around them - then I headed over to Tank and Clancy.

"He's still alive?" I asked Tank, careful not to step in any of the blood pooling on the floor.

"Yeah. It's a shame, too. You should have blown his fucking head off."

"That would have been too good for you, Clancy," I said to the man who didn't seem all that cocky now, "wouldn't it?"

"Go to hell," he said, his teeth bared in a combination of pain and rage.

"It's not my time, but it is _yours_. I suggest you enjoy your next breath, because it will be your last one."

That I have Stephanie back didn't lessen the anger I feel towards this asshole. There's already a 'cleaning crew' ready to change this from a crime scene back to just an abandoned factory once I have Steph out of the immediate area. I stood over Clancy's bleeding body, and with his bloodshot eyes on me the entire time, I attached a silencer to the end of my gun. I didn't want her to carry the sound of this gunshot to the grave like I will. And with Tank and my men looking on in approval, I put another bullet in Clancy - straight through his heart for almost taking out the one person who kept mine beating.


End file.
